Running From The Truth
by Moonlight Phoenix1
Summary: No matter how much he convinces himself that what he's seeing in the Mirror of Erised isn't true, the only person he's fooling is himself . . .


A/N: One-shot. Ummm . . . this is quite dark because Draco is rather twisted in this little ficlet thing. It's also rather short. The end is quite weird (as it always is in my one-shots). I would be REALLY happy if you reviewed! Please! Please? Pwetty pwease with chocolate icing and a cherry on top?  
  
~~~~~~~~ Running From The Truth ~~~~~~~~  
  
Erised.  
  
It was a beautiful mirror - everyone who ever saw it could tell you that much.  
  
The rim of it was covered in luxurious gold, ancient writing and patterns that didn't make sense.  
  
When you looked inside, you could either be surprised by what you saw, glad, or both at the same time.  
  
But not horrified.  
  
And that was what Draco Malfoy was feeling at this exact moment.  
  
He was in his seventh year at Hogwarts, and he had found the room that the Mirror of Erised was in. He knew that it had been kept in the school ever since his first year at Hogwarts. He had managed to find it every single year.  
  
This year, it was in an abandoned room near the Gryffindor Tower.  
  
But what he saw in it . . .  
  
Horrible. Terrible. Hideous. Dreadful. Disgusting.  
  
All these words were flying around Draco's head, but one stood out most of all.  
  
Wrong.  
  
What he was seeing was just . . . wrong.  
  
It couldn't be true, it just couldn't . . . he should be punished, he should be beaten, he should have his throat slit for even seeing things like this.  
  
He looked away from the mirror, then back again. The image remained the same.  
  
"No," he managed to choke out.  
  
It just couldn't be.  
  
First year, there had been Slytherin winning the House Cup.  
  
Second year, there had been him beating Potter in Quidditch.  
  
Third year, there had been him putting Potter in the infirmary because of a massive fight.  
  
Fourth year, there had been Potter coming out from the Triwizard maze with many bruises and cuts on his face, and falling down at his feet.  
  
Fifth year, there had been him smashing Potter's head against the wall, deep red blood slowly leaking down the stone parapet.  
  
Sixth year, that had been him drinking blood - Potter's blood - out of Potter's skull.  
  
But now . . . now . . .  
  
This couldn't be real. It just couldn't.  
  
The mirror wasn't supposed to work like this.  
  
It was supposed to show his desires, not this . . . not this . . . atrocity.  
  
What would Father say if he could see what Draco was seeing in the mirror now?  
  
He'd be disappointed. Disgusted, even. He'd probably hand Draco right over to Voldemort as a sacrifice - that's what he'd deserve, anyway.  
  
Draco turned his head from the mirror again, still not believing what he was seeing.  
  
He looked back.  
  
Why wouldn't the bloody image change?  
  
The mirror wasn't working properly - if it was, it would show him beating Potter to the ground, making his blood spill everywhere, burying him alive in the cold raw earth . . .  
  
But not . . . not . . .  
  
Not what he was seeing now.  
  
Potter kissing him.  
  
Actually kissing him.  
  
Not passionately, either. But gently. A soft, gentle kiss on the lips . . .  
  
It was wrong.  
  
Draco wasn't gay - he hated Potter. He hated him with a passion. The bloody mirror was broken. This wasn't what he desired - he couldn't.  
  
But the way that Potter was kissing him . . . so soft and gentle and so full of love . . .  
  
Just. Plain. Wrong.  
  
There were many conflicting emotions in Draco's head, and his heart, and they were making him claustrophobic.  
  
He just couldn't breathe.  
  
What was Potter doing to him?  
  
In the mirror, Mirror Harry kissed Mirror Draco, and then looked at the real Draco, green eyes shining brightly and that horrible black hair so messy and untidy and . . .  
  
And then Mirror Harry kissed Mirror Draco again, making him smile.  
  
This was just too strange - Draco never smiled.  
  
"You're WRONG! This isn't what I want!" Draco yelled at the mirror.  
  
Mirror Potter's eyes seemed to sparkle and say, 'Oh yes it is'.  
  
"No, it ISN'T!" Draco yelled at the mirror again.  
  
Mirror Harry just smiled, and leaned in towards Mirror Draco, and the two kissed softly again. Only this time, the kiss was longer than the others that Draco had seen them have, and Mirror Draco slowly started undoing the buttons on Mirror Harry's shirt.  
  
"No . . . no . . . STOP IT!" Draco yelled loudly.  
  
But Mirror Harry and Mirror Draco didn't seem to hear him, and in a matter of seconds, they were naked, in a few more, they started making love.  
  
To watch himself making love with Harry Potter was just . . . it wasn't right.  
  
It was wrong, it was disgusting, it was horrible.  
  
"I DON'T WANT THIS! I HATE YOU, I HATE YOU POTTER!!!" Draco screamed, not able to tear his gaze away from the tangle of limbs in the mirror.  
  
"No," Draco whispered, stepping backwards and turning around.  
  
And suddenly, he turned around again, leapt forwards and started pummelling the mirror with his fists, the ancient mirror that could never be recovered, smashing it into a thousand pieces of sharp glass, screaming out his frustration.  
  
Finally he stopped. He calmed down. He looked at the floor.  
  
And Harry's pretty green eyes were mocking him in every single shard of broken glass there was.  
  
End. 


End file.
